first_imgThere are no coincidences on earthWhen it comes to that overwhelming visitor, DeathBecause the visit, whenever, wherever it occursIs always in the Master’s planTherefore death in its sting and lossIs certainly never untimelyAt whatever age or in whatever circumstanceIt remains the inevitable endThe body deprived of the soulIs on its way to becoming dustJust as the Master plannedAnd because death is so mysteriousIt defies the logical mindIn its wake, we hurt, we wail, at timesWe even despairAnd in our griefWe address an unresponsive bodyWith apologies for what should have been…The heartfelt “I love you” left unsaidDespair opportunities galoreThe contrite “I am sorry” that could have deeply healedOr the humble “May I help you?” knowingHumanity’s inadequaciesOpportunities!All now irretrievable!Yet the panegyrics, the eulogies, the tributes ofEvery genre flow continuously wherever a body rests in varnished coffin or gilded casket or even lying on the bare earthAnd so one asks to what purpose?Perhaps just perhaps the dead through these voices can yet teach the living to live.Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)last_img